Hello! Thank you guys so much for following my story! That felt amazing to get online and see five beautiful names, and one review! I cannot possibly describe the elation. Here is chapter two, I hope everyone enjoys it

I want to be as regular as possible with posting, but I'm about to enter finals week so there is a possibility I won't be able to really hit a schedule until after that, but I'm going to keep it coming! Please let me know if you have any comments, suggestions, or whatever. I can always use the fuel.

Again, thank you so much for reading and hopefully enjoying this story, it feels wonderful.

This chapter is dedicated to the Historian and moralist Lord Acton, without whom Anders wouldn't have an awesome quote.


"You cannot be seriously considering this? Releasing Feynriel to the Dalish, while misguided, was one thing. Freeing proven maleficar is entirely different." Anger filled Fenris's voice.

"Oh what a surprise, dissent from the mage hater. You see blood mages everywhere you look! These are people, frightened and defending themselves." Anders antagonized from the other side of Hawke.

"Both of you shut up. Let me think." Hawke ran her hands through her hair, considering her options.

She looked out at the pale, worried faces of the mages in the cave around them, enclosed by bodies of their dead comrades and the undead they had raised.

She had responded to Thrask's letter with the hope of protecting innocent mages from the ever-increasing wrath of Meredith's iron first, but could she really call these men and women blameless? How far had Decimus's use of blood magic gone? Could she risk releasing maleficar freely into Thedas?

Hawke considered frightened Alain, so worried and clearly guiltless of the atrocities committed by the others, could she live with condemning them all for the mistakes of a few?

"I know what you're thinking Hawke, even if they are innocent of this man's crimes, however doubtful, the circle is still the safest place. For them, for everyone." Fenris attempted to persuade her.

"And leave them to the growing madness of Meredith? Even you must recognize that the Templar order is tearing at the seams, Fenris." Ander's pointed an accusing finger at him, "Corruption isn't just something that happens to mages. Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"I've seen true corruption, Abomination, and there is nothing that compares to the depravity of unimpeded magic."

"If you two don't stop arguing, I'll show you both depravity." Hawke glared at Anders and Fenris, then turned her questioning gaze to Varric.

Varric shrugged his arms, looking guilty, "Sorry Hawke, this is out of my wheelhouse. It's going to have to be your call."

Seeing Hawke's hesitation Grace spoke up, "I told Decimus he was going too far, but he said it was the only way to protect us. To protect m—"

"Then you are foolish, which is just as dangerous as someone with intent." Fenris interrupted the story, earning a glare from Hawke.

"Fenris is right, blood magic is never the answer." Hawke grudgingly supported the elf.

"Please… we only want our freedom. Without your help, the Templars will execute us all for Decimus's crimes."

This gave Hawke pause, "Where do you intend to go?"

"I… I hear there are places, outside the Free Marches, where the Templars are not so vigilant." Grace proposed.

Hawke, sighed, overwhelmed with indecision, "I cannot condemn you to death. If you agree to leave Kirkwall… we will help."

Relief washed over Grace's face, "Then we must first throw off our pursuit. Kill the Templars at the front of the cave and we can get clear before they send more men."

Fenris scoffed, "You ask us to commit murder."

Hawke's brow furrowed, worried by Grace's eager tone.

"The death of a few to save many seems a small sacrifice." Anders offered.

"No." Hawke was firm in her stance.

"We could distract them." Varric spoke up, "Send them in the wrong direction; by the time I'm done, the Templars will swear that the sky is green."

Hawke smiled at Varric, relieved by the levity he could bring to any situation, "Perfect. Lets go."

Fenris was the last to follow, still judging Grace, "This is a mistake," he sighed, finally turning to shadow his rapidly retreating companions.


By the time they reached the mouth of the cave, more Templars had arrived.

"Who is this?" a Templar Hawke recognized as Karras addressed them accusingly.

Hawke looked to Varric, raising an eyebrow, "Tell him who we are."

"What's the trouble, Ser Thrask? Did the knight-commander forget to tell Ser Karras that knight-commander Greagoir sent us from Ferelden to help you root out rebel mages?"

Thrask's caught on quickly, "Uh, yes. Yes, I was just about to tell him."

"We've completed our investigation. There is no one left alive inside." Varric finished.

"All that blood," Hawke groaned, "And these boots were new."

Karras judged Hawke and her companions. Covered in gore as they were, the story checked out, for now.

"The leader ran out the back. Blighting coward abandoned his men. You could probably still catch him if you hurry." Hawke lied.

"Uh, right." Varric jumped in, "I couldn't really see, but it looked like the cavern led out to the coast. I'd send your men that way."

There was an excruciating silence while Karras assessed the companions,

"The coast you say? Men, fan out, search the shore. We will retrieve these corpses later." Karras finally ordered the group.

Thrask nodded a silent thanks to Hawke and followed the remaining Templars. Once they had all disappeared around the corner, the party released a collective breath of relief.

Grace emerged from the shadows of the cavern, the timid mages shrinking behind her, "I didn't think you could do it." She laughed with disbelief; " I did not think and of us would leave those caves alive."

"Well, officially you were killed during escape." Hawke joked.

"I will do my best to seem cold and rotten, then." Grace smiled, "Thank you friend, for everything." She turned to the other mages, "Now, we must flee as far as we can before nightfall."

The companions watched as the mages departed into the distance.

"You made the right decision Hawke." Anders placed a supportive hand and her shoulder.

"We shall see about that." Fenris spoke from the shade of the cave, having kept his silence throughout the ordeal.

"If only we were all lucky enough to possess your foresight," Anders replied sardonically.

"If only indeed, Abomination." Fenris stared pointedly at Anders.

"I won't condemn someone on a maybe, Fenris," Hawke tried to appeal to his sense of reason, "Surely you can understand their desire for freedom?"

"The circle isn't slavery," he argued, "It is protection. For mages as well as others."

"Would you send me to the circle?" Hawke's irritation was growing.

That gave Fenris pause, would he send her to the circle? He had grown accustomed to her leadership, and she might very well be the determining factor in defeating Denarius, but he did not think The Circle was the boogeyman she imagined it to be.

"I… there are always exceptions to the rule, Hawke. That does not mean the rule isn't necessary." He left the cave, keeping his stride ahead of the rest of the group.

"What an ass." Anders sighed, following the elf and leaving Hawke and Varric alone.

"What do you think Varric?"

"I think…. I need a drink." Varric concluded simply.

Hawke watched her retreating companions, "Me too."


Several weeks had passed since Fenris's introduction to their team, and it had gone rather smoothly Varric thought, especially considering its turbulent beginning. He was a strong sword, and a powerful wraith in combat. Delivering a strength they had been missing since their personal battering ram had begun training for Guard Captain.

Despite his terrifying presence in battle, the elf was a quiet, brooding sort, which actually complimented the already boisterous group, and provided ample material for Varric's stories. Every good tale had a mysterious character of questionable intent.

While Fenris was still not shy about his strong distaste for all things magic, immediately putting him at ends with Blondie (the self-appointed pro-mage speaker that the mage plight never asked for), he had built a surprising rapport with Hawke; aide from their almost regularly scheduled arguments. Their unique fighting styles worked together impeccably, and Hawke's enigmatic leadership: a mixture of loyalty and cleverness with just a touch of reckless abandon, had obviously commanded the elf's respect.

"Thinking of new ways to cheat me out of my coin, dawrf?" Hawke pulled him from his musing, eyeing him suspiciously over her cards.

"Hawke, if I took any more of your coin, I could fund the Deep Roads expedition myself," Varric laughed, "I was actually thinking about how well everything's been going lately."

"Barring the daily live threatening event, blood mages, and the Qunari quandary, I assume?" Hawke goaded.

"Naturally." Varric traded out a card, "Also, I'm stealing the Qunari quandary. Never underestimate the power of a well used alliteration."

"Noted. Now, show me what you've got." She laid her cards on the table.

Varric let out an exaggerated lament of defeat, "Very good, Hawke, very good."

A triumphant smile began to spread across the mage's face.

"But not good enough." Varric revealed his hand, a full matching suit that completely decimated Hawke's.

"You're a cheater Tethras, and as soon as I figure out how you do it, I will own your chest hair and Isabella's breeches."

"Hawke, cheating is the game, and as soon as you wrap your pointy little face around that, I will promptly move on to a younger, more gullible group of friends," Varric began to gather the cards together.

Hawke stretched her arms over her head. "I'm out. I told Aveline I would drop by the barracks tonight."

"Oh, perfect. If you're heading up to Hightown," Varric paused, rifling through his desk, "save me a trip, and give this to Broody." He handed Hawke an unmarked envelope.

"What is it?"

"The deed to that moldy pile of stone he calls a home. It won't keep the city off of him forever, but it should at least give Aveline a better excuse to keep him on the bottom of her to-do list."

"How did you get the deed to Denarius's mansion?"

"Don't look so impressed Hawke, I'm a businessman after all… who occasionally shoots people."

She examined him doubtfully.

"And… it's fake. But a really good fake." He winked at her as she shook her head, turning to leave.


Hawke paused in front of Fenris' mansion, unsure of whether she should knock or let herself in. Opting to avoid bloodshed, she knocked loudly. When there was no response, she tentatively pushed open the door and stepped inside.

"Fenris?" She entered the main hall.

A crash, followed by what seemed to be a year's worth of grime and dirt spilled from the door to her left as Fenris emerged, coughing and dusting off his armor.

"Does no one knock in this blighted city? I caught Merrill baking bread in the kitchen this morning."

"I did knock, you didn't answer." She tried not to smile at the image of Fenris chasing Merrill from his home.

"And that provokes an invitation? Manners outside of the Imperium are disconcerting." Fenris continued removing debris from his armor.

"I'm relatively sure we're just rude." Hawke smirked, holding out the envelope, "Here, Varric sent me with this. It's the deed to the mansion."

He took the letter, trading her for the wine bottle he had been holding, and immediately opened it, walking passed her and up the stairs.

Hawke followed, looking down at the bottle in her hand, "What's this?"

"Agreggio Pavali." He replied distractedly, "There are six bottles in the cellar."

Hawke studied his creased brow, wondering what in the letter could be causing his frustration. He seemed to give up on whatever it was; flinging the paper onto an empty table as they entered the only room he occupied out of the entire mansion. She considered seating herself on the couch, but in lieu of their most recent disagreement, opted for standing near the door instead, assuming the hammer of his ire would drop sooner than later.

Tossing him back the wine, she was about to make her exit when he spoke again.

"Denarius used to have me pour this for his guests." He began to open the wine, "my appearance intimidated them, which he enjoyed." The cork made a satisfying pop as it was pulled from the bottle.

Hawke looked over the elf, he was certainly attractive, but she could easily see how his sharp gauntlets, strange markings, and generally acidic demeanor could elicit concern in the viewer.

"Dark and indomitable," she joked, "I can't imagine why they would be put off..." he glowered at her, "Well, maybe the death stare isn't for everyone."

He shook his head, "You say what's on your mind. I'll give you that."

Taking a swig of the wine, he held it out towards Hawke. She took the bottle, hesitating a moment before drinking a mouthful, and passing it back. There was a long silence while he eyed it disdainfully, until he suddenly heaved it forcefully against the wall. The bottle exploded, showering the room in pieces of glass and a misting of wine.

"My charming wit isn't contagious, I promise." She looked at Fenris, bemused.

"There's more if you're interested." He motioned behind him indifferently.

"Perish the thought," she waved her hand dramatically, "How else would you redecorate the walls?"

Taken aback, he began to laugh, but stopped himself, as if thinking better of it. There was another minute of uncomfortable silence before he cleared his throat,

"I've wanted to leave my past behind me, but it won't stay there." He sat himself in a chair across the room, "Have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?"

She took a moment to ponder the question, walking slowly around the room. The possibility of returning had been a thought she had strategically avoided. Finding that the idea only filled her with a heavy melancholy. Lothering no longer represented the safe simplicity of her childhood. It had instead become a place of loss and death.

Stopping by the open window, she finally responded, "Ferelden will always be my home, but that is… a complicated question." She offered as much as she was willing.

"Indeed." He seemed to understand her reservation.

"How about you? Do you intend to stay in Kirkwall?" Hawke asked to keep the conversation moving, now wishing she had taken up his offer of another bottle of wine.

"I haven't decided. For now its as good as any other place." He paused, "I would return to Seheron if I could, but…" a bitterness entered his voice, "there is no life for me there."

She raised her brows, Maker knows there must be a story there. "Is that where you're from?"

"So I've been told." He answered simply

Hawke tilted her head, confused, "were you very young when you left?"

"Perhaps."

Andraste's tits, getting him to speak was like felling an ogre. Though Hawke supposed her own habit of humorous deflection tended to have the same irritating effect on others. She watched from the window as he sat back in the large chair, staring into the fire. She couldn't decide what to make of him. His opinions were confusing, his reactions were jarring, and his game was still unknown. Maker, he was one of the most interesting and infuriating individuals she'd ever met.

He didn't appear to be particularly disinterested in her company, so she moved from the window to a dusty couch near the hearth.

"Will you track down Denarius?"

He remained quiet for a long moment before answering,

"I assume he has returned to Minrathous. It would be unwise of me to attack him there, under the protection of the Imperium. I imagine he'll come looking for me again, sooner or later, and when he does I'll be ready." His gaze shifted passed her while he spoke, imagining the battle in the room behind her.

His eyes focused intensely on hers once more, halting before speaking again, as if what he was about to say next would take great effort,

"I do not expect your help when that day comes, but I would not turn it aside."

She held his stare while knots began to form in her stomach that weren't entirely unpleasant. Breaking the contact, she turned towards the warmth of the fire instead.

"And miss the opportunity to add Tevinter Magister to my repertoire? Varric might arrange to have you shipped back to the Imperium if you don't invite us."

A wry grin spread across her face as she finally looked back at him. He had already shifted his attention away, a small smile playing through his features as he looked at the floor, focusing on nothing in particular.

"You've been on the run for a long time now, haven't you?"

"Almost three years," he sighed, "Denarius always has a way of finding me. Perhaps it is the markings." He considered the white lines that danced across his arms, "whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. Perhaps there truly is strength in numbers."

Her brow furrowed, she had never considered that he had been on his own for so long. She couldn't imagine life without someone like Varric to keep her sane, and alive. Even her combative and aggravating brother was preferable to such isolation. "It seems reckless to have been alone this entire time. Haven't you ever sought outside help?"

"Hirelings, when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance, until you" he seemed to weigh his next words carefully, "tell me, what do you do when you stop running?"

Hawke was confused by the question,

"You survive, and move on. What else do you want?"

Her response seemed to anger him,

"Something different. So should you."

There was a stifling hush in the room until Fenris spoke again.

"Forgive me, your life is your own, it simply… sounds very familiar." He seemed unsettled. By his outburst or her answer, she did not know.

"No. You're right." Hawke sighed in a rare moment of sincerity, "I'm just not really sure I've stopped running yet."

They shared a knowing glance, each coming to an understanding of the other.

"You know, if you're looking to start a life, you could always stay." Hawke wasn't sure what prompted the offer; it has slipped out without much deliberation.

He considered her suggestion, "We shall see."

They both watched the crackling fire, savoring the calm that seemed an infrequent commodity in their lives. Hawke, rose from the couch, deciding to make her exit when Fenris's words stopped her,

"I… should thank you again for helping me against the hunters, and apologize for my actions after. You have proven your fortitude several times over." A small, sly smile flickered across his face before disappearing, "Had I known Anso would find me a woman so… capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

Hawke turned away quickly, completely disarmed and hiding her rapidly reddening face. Trusting her flush wasn't visible from her distance in the dim lighting, she glanced over her shoulder as she exited the room,

"Maybe I should be thanking Anso." Attagirl, she encouraged herself, take back control.

Amusement colored his speech, "Maybe you should."


The cool night air was a welcome relief to her warm face and disoriented senses. Andraste's ass, why had she said that? Why had he said that? Why was her heart trying its best to beat itself straight out of her chest?

She tried to pinpoint the moment they had shelved their mutual distain, but she couldn't. It hadn't been a single moment really, but rather small demonstrations here and there that had finally added up to something that resembled respect.

He still fervently disagreed with many of her choices, but she had to admit, she hadn't exactly allied with meek companions. What had been the tipping point, though? She thought back to a fight in Darktown earlier that week: his powerful swings governing the battle, while she used her magic and light feet to surprise her prey from the shadows. Her deadly strikes complimenting his final blows.

It was the fighting.

Their combat styles had become remarkably in-tune with each other over the past few weeks. The entire party was skilled, operating like a well-oiled machine, but they had all been working together for months now, some almost a year. The type of fluidity shared between her and Fenris was subconscious, and with it they were truly unstoppable. To fighters like them, that type of bond was a sacred one, and the appreciation developing from it was resolute, even if they found disagreement elsewhere. She smiled, amused that they had discovered their compatibility through conflict. Hawke thought about each of her companions, her new family, and her grin spread further. Maybe she had stopped running after all.

Suddenly the bell tower rang, jolting her from her thoughts, and announcing the late hour.

"Shit, Aveline is going to kill me."